I went running a couple of nights ago. I’d been working out for a while and decided to go for the first run in a really long time. So I took the windy road up and around the first few blocks, turned left at the second stop sign, and left again at the next to begin my climb up the hill. It had been uphill from the start, but the next 1/4 mile was a steady incline followed by a steep hill that peaked to overlook all of downtown San Diego. It was a test.
With Krystal Meyers blaring through Everen’s iPod, I charged up the hill, ignoring the voice inside that told me to stop. And I prayed. I prayed for guidance. For mercy. For grace. And for the wisdom required to take the next step in this race God has given me to run.
I admit, part of me wants to give up. With “When I finally make it home…” running through my head constantly, I can’t help but think about how much easier it will be when I stand before the King and no longer have to keep my feet moving down here. This race……
And then, just as I’m ready to give in to it, a still, small voice inside encourages me to keep going…to ignore the voice begging me to stop…telling me I can’t do it…that I can’t make it.
Keep running, Jon. Run to me and I will give you rest.
Ah, yes. Now I remember the way…..